


Kraft Dinner

by Kayljay



Category: The X-Files
Genre: 10000-15000 words, Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-09-14
Updated: 2004-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayljay/pseuds/Kayljay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By chance, Doggett finds out that Krycek is not what Mulder and Scully make him out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kraft Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> This is an imcomplete work.
> 
> When evesharmony and I started this, we thought it would be a couple thousand words. Alex and John had different ideas. They kept pushing each other's buttons, and went from men working on opposite sides to a tenative alliance between them.
> 
> Why 'Kraft Dinner'? Because we were silly one night and needed something to call the pairing so Kraft(Krycek) Dinner (Doggett). Because it's the cheesiest!
> 
> First of all thanks go to evesharmony who started this story and was kind enough to let me post her side of this back and forth between us. Our first effort is based on the garage scene between Alex and John in 'Deadalive'. Evesharmony wrote Krycek's POV and I wrote Doggett's. This was a challenge from the woman with the pointy stick, Rachelle. Thank you, ladies!

[ ](http://photobucket.com/)   
**Banner by heart-cries**

~~~

Krycek worried at his lower lip, tasting the blood and sweat. If everyone had a theme to their life, that would be his. Oh, and don't forget the sweet smell of desperation. He reached over to grab a tissue from the glove compartment and was surprised to find his hand shaking slightly.

He felt . . . different. Wait, no. Not different, he felt . . . like he hadn't felt in a long time. Like the days when he'd break into Mulder's apartment, or they'd run into each other on an investigation, and there would be the thrill of seeing the righteous anger spread across Mulder's face. That was usually his ten second warning before Mulder clocked him.

Those were the days. They hadn't been like that in a long time.

But Agent John Doggett, he'd shown that fire that Mulder once had, that Mulder had once directed at him.

He tossed the tissue on the passenger seat, unused. He'd savor the taste on his lips for a little while longer.

xxxxx

John went back with a cotton swab to the wet patch of the hospital garage where Alex Krycek left him defeated.

He had given the swab to the Gunmen for analysis. They knew enough now not to ask him questions.

"It's green tea," Beyers told him. "I assume you were expecting something else.?"

"Krycek told Skinner it was a vaccine for Mulder. What's this guy's story, anyway?"

The trio shook their heads.

"It's a long one between him and Mulder. The man has many faces," Frohike said.

He heard the squeal of the tires as he laid on his back.

Krycek sat at the wheel, eyes daring John.

The bastard was too cocky for his own good.

John rolled to his feet, watched Krycek step out of the car.

"You looking for this?" he asked, dangling the vial between his fingers like the prize it was. "It's the vaccine, for Mulder."

Doggett took one step and the vial dropped. Echoing like a gunshot to seal Mulder's fate.

He started awake, still seeing those jade eyes taunting him. The unhurried way he had wiped the smear of blood from his lower lip before calmly climbing in the car and driving away. Leaving nothing except a puddle of supposed vaccine.

Why? He wondered.

Had Krycek known Mulder was in danger on life support?

Did he purposely lie to Skinner, knowing what his choice would be?

And the lie about the vaccine? And what the hell was the cat and mouse game in the garage about?

John shook his head and tried to brush the swirling contradicting thoughts away.

He fell back onto the bed and tried to get those gloating eyes out of his head.

xxxxx

Krycek turned the key, listening to the distinctive thunk as the deadbolt slid back. He only had the one lock. Seemed strange for someone in his line of work to have such shoddy security, but he didn't keep anything important here. And everyone else was smart enough to know that. He'd never had a single person bother him here, not even old Spender.

Except . . .

A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He stared at it for a moment, then at the doorjamb where it must have been wedged. What the hell? Mysterious notes under doors were *his* thing. It had landed face up, and the light from the hallway was just enough to let him make out the single word.

Now.

Now. What did that mean? The colonists were here? The rebels had attacked? Someone wanted to see him?

He leaned down to pick it up and almost missed the movement at the edge of his vision. As it was, he only had enough time to turn his head before a body barreled into him, knocking the back of his head against the door frame.

~~~~~

"Just wake up already, wouldja?"

Krycek couldn't help it when a grin slipped free. He'd been awake for about a minute, and without opening his eyes, had already figured out where he was, what was going on, and who had him tied to his kitchen chair with electrical tape. He wiggled his left arm experimentally, but the tape had been looped around his shoulder, under his armpit and through the bars of the chair. He couldn't even free himself by slipping out of his prosthesis. Smart.

"Thanks for the warning," he croaked out.

Strong fingers gripped his hair and pulled back. If it had been Mulder, it would have been painful enough to bring tears to his eyes. But it wasn't Mulder. The grin turned into a smug smile. This was a brand new game.

"As far as I can tell," said John Doggett, crouching down to eye level "you don't have much to be smiling about."

"Guess you can't tell very much, then," he replied, taunting. A hint of violence flared up in the other man's eyes. In the back of his head, he could hear a voice taunting 'Come on, do it. Hit me. You know you want to.'

Instead, Doggett let go of his hair and stepped over to the sink. He came back with a glass of water and held it questioningly up to Krycek's mouth. Krycek kept his eyes locked on Doggett's as he gulped down the water.

"Green tea?" he asked as Krycek licked his lips. "With extra food coloring."

Krycek managed a lopsided shrug.

"Why didn't you just tell us that Mulder needed to be off life support?"

He snorted. "Who would have believed me?"

Doggett remained silent, acknowledging that truth. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, studying Krycek intently. Krycek, for his part, tried not to squirm under the hard stare.

"What do you want?" he finally blurted, expecting Doggett to come rushing forward and grab him and shake him and shout 'I want the truth!' But none of that happened.

"I want to know why you're so keen on saving Mulder's life. Thought you two were archenemies or something."

"Why do you care? Now that Mulder's made his triumphant return, I'm sure he and Scully will go back to being two peas in a pod and the X-Files'll just be a bad memory for you."

To his credit, Doggett barely flinched. "I'm not Mulder, Krycek. You can't bait me so easily."

Shit. Why did he keep forgetting that? They stared at each other across the five foot expanse of his kitchen. So Doggett wanted answers. Now.

Doggett stared at Krycek, who was bound with electrical tape to his own chair.

Alex finally sighed.

"You're better off just letting me go. You don't want the truth. You wouldn't believe the truth."

"What? That Mulder was turning into some kind of alien?"

"He was."

John snorted. "Look, Krycek, maybe this is your idea of fun..."

Alex licked his lips. "It could be."

John chuckled. "You hittin' on me, Krycek?"

He watched as Alex's eyes walked up his body, until they met his own. The jade eyes that had haunted his sleep were dilated.

"What do you think, John?"

"You think that if you can't bait me, you can distract me with your 'hit on the straight guy' routine." He leaned next to Krycek's ear. "I told you, Alex; I'm not Mulder.

"No kidding. Mulder never wasted time trying to convince me he was straight."

Doggett leaned back and stared at him a bit before a chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, this certainly didn't go as I envisioned." Doggett reached into his pocket and pulled out a swiss army knife. Krycek felt his eyes go wide despite his resolve to always act indifferent. As it was he had to bite his lip--his already injured lip--to stop a sigh escaping as Doggett began to cut through the electrical tape.

Moments later he was free and rotating the stiffness out of his shoulders while Doggett pulled out another kitchen chair and sat on it backwards. Krycek gingerly touched the back of his head, wondering what it meant that he barely even noticed head injuries anymore. Some things you really shouldn't get accustomed to.

"Sorry about your head. Is it bad? You went down like a sack of potatoes," Doggett said, not sounding or looking sorry at all, judging by the lingering smirk on his mouth.

"I'll live." He got up and went to the sink to pour himself another glass of water. "So has this turned into a social call? Am I supposed to offer you a snack?"

"You're a real smart ass, you know."

"Yeah. I went to a special school for it."

"What is it going to take to get a straight answer out of you?"

The next smart ass remark was too easy so he let it go. Instead, he leaned back against the counter and let his hips jut out just a little, wondering how far Doggett would let himself be pushed. He obviously had a hundred times more restraint than Mulder. At least, when it came to Krycek he did.

"I don't know. No one's ever asked me the right question before."

Doggett obviously didn't know what to do with that. They stared each other down for a few seconds, and then Doggett broke it off by standing up.

"I'll be back," he said as he walked by. "Be prepared for that question." The door shut quietly and Krycek was left alone in the kitchen.

xxxxx

"Agent Doggett? John?"

He snapped upright, staring right into Dana Scully's blue eyes.

"Mornin', Agent Scully."

"How long have you been here?"

He watched her brow furrow as she realized what file he had open.

Shit.

"What are you doing with that file, Agent Doggett?"

'That' file, like her sister's case file was just like any other.

He wiped his hand over his face.

"I was checking out Krycek. After what happened at the hospital. Maybe you can help me out. This," he said, dropping her sister's file on top of a small stack at his elbow, "was the last one. I still can't figure out his agenda."

"What's confusing you, Agent Doggett?" she asked coolly.

"Because what I'm reading in these files doesn't fit the man who saved Mulder's life."

Cold went to fire in a New York Minute. "Excuse me? He destroyed the vaccine that would have saved Mulder."

"The vaccine was a fake. Krycek used it to get Mulder off life support."

Scully shook her head. "Skinner told me--"

"I know what the Assistant Director told you. I know what he told me. Mulder's life for your baby's. Krycek knew exactly who to play. When I stepped into the picture, Krycek had no choice but to destroy the 'vaccine'."

"You're telling me he wasn't trying to kill Mulder or my baby?"

"With all the evidence I've got in front of me, it looks like he did his best to save all three of you."

"Agent Doggett, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you're certifiable." She crossed her arms over her chest. "What makes you think the vaccine was fake?"

"I had the Gunmen run as test. It was green tea."

"Oh my god," she whispered pressing her hand to her mouth.

"Dana? What is it?" He started to get up, but she waved him off.

"I'm fine. It's..." she choked on a small laugh. "Mulder loves iced tea."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was walking. Scully thought the tea was a coincidence and warned him from reading any good into Krycek's intentions.

He was strongly tempted to comment about being too close to be objective, but he knew it would take more than his gut to convince Scully.

The more he walked, the more convinced he became. It had been fear in Krycek's eyes when he had pulled his knife to free him. And god knows he had seen that look every day he'd been in the war zone during his service in the Marines. And heard the smartass remarks to cover it.

Krycek was far from the thug he first thought him. Thugs didn't graduate at the top of their class at Quantico. Pulled strings might have gotten him in, but he needed the brains to stay there, to keep up with Mulder.

A smart man didn't hide in plain sight. Despite John's fugitive hunting experience, he suspected Scully or Mulder could have tracked him down.

If they had wanted to look.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Krycek didn't speak when he answered the door, merely waved him inside. Alex frowned as he took in his jeans and tee.

"I'm not armed, except for the knife," he said, tossing it on the table.

He almost laughed at Krycek's bemused expression.

"I thought it was the matter of the right question. But it's not, is it?" He pulled out a chair and dropped into it, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Look, Doggett, maybe now that Mulder's back, you're bored--"

John shook his head slowly, hooked his thumbs into his belt loops.

"Bored doesn't keep me up all night reading your files and reports.

"You keep risking your own survival to save Mulder, Scully and Skinner."

Alex snorted. "They don't seem to think so."

"No, they don't. But they're too close to the truth. Aren't they?"

Alex jerked his eyes away.

"Yeah. That's it," he said flatly. "Happy now?" he said, walking toward the door.

Doggett laughed softly. "You're so easy."

Krycek posed against the doorframe and John could almost feel the phemerones rolling off him, the breeze when he batted those ridiculously long lashes.

He rose to his feet. "They're afraid, Alex. It's easier for them to make you the bad guy. Because they know they can't protect you. You're a dead man if you openly help them, aren't you? And not just you. Skinner, Scully, her baby and Mulder," he said, each name, each step he took brought him closer to solving the one truth Mulder had never acknowledged or figured out. "They're dead too if you don't play along." He leaned nose to nose with Alex. "Aren't they?"

Alex's eyes went wild with fear.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" He shoved John backwards.

John let the momentum knock him on his ass.

"Get the fuck out!"

He towered over John, who leaned on his elbows.

"Gonna shoot me, Krycek?" he smirked.

Alex snarled and stormed out of the room; slamming the door behind him.

But not the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took him twenty minutes to come back out. He was haggard, but calm.

"You ready now?" Doggett asked.

Alex cocked his head.

"To tell me your story. 'Cause I'm ready to listen. I'm ready to believe."

Alex stared down at him doubtfully. "You don't even believe in aliens," he sighed.

"So convince me," John said, giving Alex his best grin.

Krycek continued to stare down at him. He must have died. That was the only explanation. When Doggett barrelled into him in the hallway he'd crushed his skull against the doorframe and was now living in some sort of hell or alternate dimension.

But . . . isn't this what he always wanted? Someone to believe him, to listen to him, to see him as something other than just the 'bad guy'? Shit. If wishes were horses he'd buy a ranch.

"I have trouble taking you seriously when you're sitting on the floor of my foyer."

"Just making a point. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes you are," Krycek said, grabbing his coat. He felt at a disadvantage in his own apartment. Time to level the playing field a bit. "Come on. Don't forget your knife," he added, just to see what Doggett would do.

Doggett hesitated a moment, but finally went back to scoop it up before following Krycek out the door. Krycek smirked. Mulder would have left it on the table, just to prove that he wasn't scared of Krycek. Not that Krycek thought Doggett was scared of him--he just didn't let his ego get in the way of common sense. Not to mention it was late and they weren't in the best neighborhood. Pity the mugger, he thought.

"Where are we going?" Doggett asked as they stepped out of the building.

"You'll find out when we get there."

"No, I'll find out now because I'm driving." He fished the keys out of his pocket and walked over to his car. Krycek hesitated. "Come on Krycek, this isn't some ploy to arrest you and put you in jail, even though I could."

Krycek snorted and stepped closer. "I've never been caught. Well, once, but that was sort of planned anyway."

"You know, I wondered about that. How you've been here all this time and no one at the FBI found you."

They stared at each other across the roof of the car. Krycek wasn't about to give up all his secrets that easily. Maybe Doggett wasn't Mulder, but *he* was still a rat bastard and a little mindfuck would go a long way to making him feel better.

"A gentleman would at least offer dinner and drinks first." He got into the car.

xxxxx

"Alex! Hey! Your usual table?"

"Hey, Mike. Actually, I was wondering if you had a room empty."

Mike looked John up and down and smirked.

"Can you wait fifteen, twenty minutes?"

"Sure, no problem. We'll be in the bar."

"Nice place. You a regular here?" John asked.

"When I'm in town. What do you want?"

"Beer."

The bartender poured it into a frosted mug. Another for Alex. Next came the shot glass. Stoli for Alex. The bartender raised his eyebrow at John.

"Aw, what the hell."

Alex could barely contain himself. Doggett doing shots? With him?

"Don't get any ideas," John warned.

Alex turned innocent eyebrows upward. "Did I say anything?"

"Don't have to. Well?" He said lifting his shot glass.

A clunky 'chink' and the alcohol went down hot and cold at the same time. The bartender refilled Alex's glass and left John's alone before he retreated.

"Smart man," John nodded at the bartender.

"Mike has good taste and good people. Wait 'til you have dinner."

From the end of the bar came a "you don't want to do that." It was the only warning John got before a hand landed high on his thigh and a blast of alcoholic fumes hit him full in the face.

"Hey, handsome."

John slowly turned his head. "You might want to move that hand before you lose it."

Krycek sniggered behind him.

"Come on, baby, you think Alex is going to give you the time of day after tomorrow?. I'll treat you gooood."

"I think Alex will be plenty interested in me tomorrow. If he knows what's good for him."

"Lexi!" the man laughed, "when did you start subbing?"

"Ever since I met the right man, Evan. Now say good night." Alex urged.

Evan sniffed and pouted. "You are no fun at all, Lexi. Too bad. Nite, handsome," he said, blowing a kiss at John."

Alex was quietly laughing behind his hand as John turned back to his beer.

"Havin' fun?" John drawled.

"Oh yeah," Alex smiled.

xxxxx

Jack the bartender wandered back over. "Hey Alex, you catch the game on Sunday?"

The game. He thought back a couple days. He'd been coming home to watch it, but there'd been a note in his door . . .

"Nah, I got tied up."

Doggett sputtered into his beer.

"Too bad man. It was a good one."

Krycek glanced at Doggett, who was wiping his chin with a napkin. "You okay, Johnny?" he asked sweetly.

Doggett glared. "Don't call me that."

"That's right," said Jack, shaking a towel in Krycek's direction. "You don't take none of his shit."

"Hey Jack, butt out."

"You name the time, I'll name the place," he grinned. A chorus of amused laughter floated up around them.

"Come here often?" Doggett asked lowly. Judging by his expression he was either constipated, or trying to hold back a grin of his own. Krycek shrugged.

"When I want first rate drinks with second rate service."

Jack flipped him the bird as he walked away.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks. Krycek had occasionally thought of bringing Mulder here, if the man had ever decided to trade in his fists for conversation. He imagined Mulder lounging at the bar, half turned so he could keep one eye on anything that so much as twitched. And while he was doing that he'd keep the other on Krycek, drilling him with increasing fervor about aliens and conspiracies and what a lowlife scum Krycek was.

Blue, instead of hazel eyes swiveled to meet his. "What is it?" Doggett asked. Krycek realized he'd been staring, but refused to look away and admit to being caught. Doggett was fully facing the bar, hunched over his beer, seeming to be interested in nothing but the variety of bottles on the shelves.

Krycek opened his mouth, but was interrupted when Doggett raised his hand. "Wait. Let me guess--you were going to say something about how I'm not like Mulder. That's all anyone ever says to me, you know. I'm gonna develop a complex one of these days."

Mulder would give anyone a complex," Alex said. "Don't take it personally."

John grunted but said nothing more.

Just then Mike came back.

"Table's ready guys."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John wanted to smack Krycek. He was trying hard not to stare at the private dining room. Trying not to let his jaw drop in surprise. He hadn't known what to expect, but after viewing the bar and main dining room, it certainly wasn't this.

The only illumination was candlelight. From the single glass-enclosed pillar on the table, to the tapers in the chandelier above their heads, every single flame was reflected in the mirrored walls and ceiling.

Alex slid into the tufted, circular banquet, sliding his hands up the hunter green velvet until his arms rested along the back.

"Have a seat, John."

"I feel seriously under dressed for this room." He wanted to bite his tongue as soon as the words came out. He watched the smile curl on Krycek's face, but his eyes were lowered.

"Just spit it out, Krycek," John growled.

Krycek's eyes rose to his, dark and mischievous.

"Johnny, I never spit."

John tipped his head back and groaned. He stared at his reflection in the mirror overhead. Why am I doing this again? he asked himself.

"John," all the teasing was gone. "Sit down. I only asked for a private room so we could talk undisturbed."

"Yeah, all private dining rooms have chaise lounges," John shot back, tilting his head at the furniture in question, upholstered to match the banquet.

"I brought you here for the food," Alex smiled and picked up his menu as a knock came at the door.

The waiter, dark-haired and blue-eyed, couldn't have been long out of his teens.

"My name is Chris. Would you like to start out with some wine?"

"Bottle of Stoli, on ice," John requested, "two beers."

Alex raised an eyebrow. John stared back.

"You want something else?"

"Oysters Rockefeller," Alex said.

John shook his head in amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John leaned back as Chris cleared the last of the plates.

Alex pulled the unopened Stoli from the ice bucket and poured two shots.

"You get five questions tonight," Alex said softly. "A shot for each of us before every question."

John's eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"Courage for me and I want to know if you're always a hard ass or if a buzz will loosen you up," he smirked.

"It's gonna take more than five shots to put me under the table, Krycek."

Alex rolled his eyes.

"So here's the catch: after I answer your five questions, you answer one of mine. I like your answer, you get another five questions tomorrow night." Alex raised his shot glass. "Deal?"

John searched Alex's eyes, but his face was closed and serious.

"Deal," John said and tossed back the vodka. "Let's get right to the point: what is all this alien crap covering up?"

"What is it covering up? Do you remember the Martian rock found in the Antarctic, with traces of lifeforms?"

"That's still a theory," John argued.

"Well, to the general public it's a theory. The fact is that there's a strong possibility those lifeforms are our ancestors."

"So you're telling me we're Martians?" John scoffed.

"The 'aliens' are transplants, too. They were here long before we ever were."

"So why don't I see any of them walking around?"

Alex tapped the shot glass and John filled it, then his own, with a sigh.

"They evolved differently, technically they're a highly evolved virus, but in reality they're the equivalent of human sperm."

"How--"

Alex tapped the glass.

"Damnit, Krycek, at this rate, it'll take forever to learn anything. You doing this on purpose?"

"Is that a question?" Alex smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shit," John said as Alex finished answering his last question. "I read all Mulder and Scully's cases when I started with the X-files, but..."

"Does that mean you're taking me seriously?" Alex asked.

"Is that a question?" John replied, shaking the bottle.

"No," Alex said, leaning closer. "This is. You like blow jobs, Johnny?"

Krycek watched Doggett sit back and narrow his eyes at him. Krycek thought he was learning--that look meant Doggett wanted to hit him, but unlike Mulder, he wouldn't. He wondered why that was. Military discipline? Strict mother? Loving mother? Successful resolution of the Oedipal complex? Correct potty training?

Then, Mulder went off half-cocked about everything. Not just Krycek but his work as well. He couldn't help smirking to himself. If Doggett ever went off, it would probably be fully cocked.

"I thought we were supposed to be talking about this alien conspiracy."

"I never said that. Besides--why would I need to ask *you* about it?"

"Didja ever think that maybe I uncovered something you didn't know about?"

He couldn't help the snicker either. "No offense Agent Doggett--your investigational skills are top notch--but I highly doubt it."

"And why's that?"

He waggled his finger. "You used up all your questions. And you haven't answered mine."

Doggett's narrowed eyes turned into an outright glare.

"If you don't answer you don't get any more questions. That was the deal."

"Fine," Doggett sighed. "It's a stupid question, but the answer is yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I like blowjobs," Doggett hissed.

They both froze at the quiet gasp as turned to see their young waiter just inside the door. He was beet red and wide-eyed. Krycek bit his lip to keep from laughing. Doggett was rubbing at the furrow between his eyebrows, also looking embarrassed. Without another word he got up and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What did you do?" Mike asked, sauntering in. "Your friend was royally pissed off."

"Something he'd never experienced before, I guess. How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. It's been taken care of."

Krycek frowned. Mike was a good guy, but he wasn't one to hand out freebies. And this evening with Doggett hadn't been cheap. "You don't have to do that."

"I wouldn't. Your friend paid as he stormed out. You know, you can be a real asshole Alex, but you must be doing something right."

xxxxx

John drove around awhile after leaving the restaurant. It was getting late, but he knew he'd never sleep on a full stomach and a head filled with questions.

He was beginning to realize that he could sympathize with Mulder on Krycek's behavior. He'd given Krycek a chance to explain and he'd made him look like an ass tonight.

John stopped at a light, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. With a sigh he cranked the CD player volume higher just as the light changed and the CD started a new track.

Halfway through the song, something clicked in his head and he smirked.

"Gotcha," he whispered.

He was still smiling when he closed his front door behind him.

"Johnny," came a purr from his living room. "You left without saying goodbye."

John tightened his lips to keep from smiling.

"I thought we were done with the question and answer game," he said smoothly, moving into the kitchen.

Then he saw the money on the counter top. He turned back to Krycek, his hands on his hips, amusement forgotten.

"What the hell's this?" he asked, jerking his chin at the fan of bills.

"Don't be an ass, John; just take the money. You already paid for the information."

"How's that?"

"Besides the time you ran me into the door frame, you haven't laid a hand on me. Although I know you were tempted tonight."

John's lips twitched.

"It's okay to smile, Johnny, I'll still respect you in the morning, even if I didn't get a goodnight kiss."

John did smirk then, moving slowly across the floor until he was nose to nose with Alex.

"You're such a fucking asshole."

"Yeah, Mike said as much. He also said I must be doing something right."

"Maybe," John husked, skating his lips over Alex's in the briefest of caresses. "Night, Krycek, thanks for dinner. Lock the door on your way out will ya?"

John grinned even wider at the silence from the living room as he climbed the stairs.

"Gotcha big time," he whispered.

xxxxx

Krycek gaped at the empty stairway. Knew his jaw was hanging open and that he was probably--oh great, look, he was--touching his lips like a fucking high school girl who'd just got her first kiss from the cutest boy in school. Even though there was nobody to see, he was still grateful for the darkness that covered the redness in his cheeks.

That fucking bastard. That unbelievable . . .

His hands curled into vicious fists. He wanted to run up the stairs and beat Doggett to a pulp. Kiss him back, yes, but beat him to a pulp as well. No--that's how he would have dealt with Mulder. Violence. He needed to smart with Doggett, because Doggett was obviously smart enough to know when he was being fucked with and to deal it back. Whereas Mulder had such a chronic case of tunnel vision that he'd get fucked over and over again until he died or the world decided to stop fucking with him.

Krycek heard himself chuckle. Wondered if Doggett could hear him as well.

He found his fingers unclenching. Fine, he wouldn't take Doggett up on the dare, he wouldn't follow him upstairs. Instead, he'd do exactly what Doggett wanted and then disappear for a few days, leaving him to stew in his own juices. But first, for the finishing touch . . .

It wasn't hard to find a pen and paper--they were sitting right beside the phone just waiting to take a message. So practical. So Doggett. He held the pad in his prosthetic hand and scribbled awkwardly on the page. He left the note beside the coffee maker and moved silently to the door. The deadbolt he couldn't lock from the outside, so he just pushed in the knob and shut the door quietly behind him.

A small grin spread over his face as hurried to his car a few blocks over. Next thing you know they were going to make him prom queen.

xxxxx

John took a deep breath as he stood across the street from the bar's entrance. He knew he'd pissed Krycek off the last time they'd met, but it had been worth it to see Krycek's stunned expression.

He had expected Krycek to chase him up the stairs and follow up the kiss with a right to the jaw. He hadn't expected a figurative punch to the gut the next morning, before his first cup of coffee.

He could almost see the smirk Alex must have worn as he wrote it.

Johnny,

Decided I owe you something special for the kiss. It'll take me a few days to get, so meet me at Riders. Saturday at 10:00

So here he was in his motorcycle leathers. He'd even ridden his Indian instead taking the truck.

It felt like every eye in the pace turned to check him out. The only thing that kept him from turning around was the certainty Krycek was somewhere in the bar watching his reaction.

John moved to the bar and waited. He was early. Krycek could come to him.

He took a long pull on his beer. Gazed in the mirror behind the bar, trying to locate Krycek without being too obvious.

"I hope he has a good excuse," came a voice from beside him. "Because no smart man would stand you up."

John turned. "What makes you think I'm waiting for someone?"

"I've never seen you in here before. You're not checking anyone out and you drank half your beer in one pull." The man stuck out his hand. "Leo."

"John. Actually, I'm early."

"Checking the place out, huh? Don't worry, John, the clientele may get wild on the dance floor, but the owner is pretty strict about everyone in the public areas keeping it inside their pants."

"You hitting on my date, Leo?" Came a familiar purr at his ear.

"Not me, Alex," Leo replied with a smile as John turned to face Krycek. "Just curious why anyone would make a guy like John wait."

"Johnny's the cautious type. Huh, baby?"

He'd been prepared for Alex's payback since he'd left him after the kiss, but the endearment startled him. He passively accepted the same quick brush of the lips he'd given Krycek a few nights before.

Then Leo made a disparaging remark about Krycek's technique. Not that John thought Alex was looking for an excuse.

Krycek pulled him in by the back of the neck for more.

Lips. Tongue. A caress at the back of his neck.

Then Alex pulled away, grasped his wrist and lead him away from the bar, down a hall and out the back door into the alley.

Krycek raised his chin and planted his feet.

"Okay, get it over with, Doggett."

He watched the other man with amusement.

"You think I'm so insecure in my manhood that I can't handle a kiss?" He shifted his hands to his hips. "Although I could have done without the tongue. I'll just consider that part of my payment tonight."

Alex's eyes widened and John sighed.

"Look, Krycek, if you're looking for redemption by having someone kick your ass, it's not going to be me."

Green eyes stared at him for a long time.

"Maybe it's not redemption I'm looking for from you, John," Alex said quietly.

"Then what the hell are you looking for? Because you've sure as hell got me stumped."

Doggett's confusion was a direct result of his own. Yeah, he loved to play with fire--the burn let him know that he was still alive, that he hadn't given in to the paralyzing despair at the imminency of colonization. But he didn't know if Doggett would be able to understand that, could comprehend a world turned upside down, the human race enslaved. Yet, Doggett was still willing to listen to him, and wasn't that what he'd always wanted? Someone to believe that just maybe Alex Krycek had the answers. That all his suffering and struggle had gifted him with some miraculous insight into the phenomenon of survival. But he didn't want to tell Doggett all of that, he just wanted to man to somehow *understand* it, to nod and say, "Sure Krycek, tell me what to do and I'll help."

"I wouldn't ask for redemption, even if I thought I could get it. It's bullshit. What's going to happen--what's happening _right now_ isn't going to be solved by saints and martyrs."

"And you think you're the man for the job?" Doggett asked archly.

"I'm the only man who's been willing to do it!" he hissed. "Mulder came so close . . ." Here his shoulders slumped and his voice softened. "But he doesn't have it in him."

"What? To save the world?"

"To sacrifice a few to save the whole."

"That would hardly be considered a character flaw."

"This is a war, Agent Doggett. People are going to die. The only advantage we have right now is controlling who and when."

"That's a bit fatalistic, don't you think?"

"That's what I've been trying to get across." He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. "Shit. This isn't why I wanted to meet you."

"No, you wanted me to kick your ass."

Krycek thought over the process that had led to this moment. All his manipulations, remarks designed to throw Doggett off his stride. The kiss. And here he was, in an alley behind a gay restaurant with a leather-clad FBI agent who may or may not want him, fate of humanity resting on his shoulders, and all her wanted to do was curl up in a ball and never open his eyes again.

Christ. He'd given _himself_ the mindfuck of all mindfucks.

He laughed, not amused, but not sure how to express the emotions tumbling around in his chest.

"You hungry? The special tonight is seafood bisque."

"Nothing against this place, but I think I'm in the mood for something a little more utilitarian."

"Like what?"

"You'll see," Doggett said, and the look on his face could only be described as sly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Try to keep up," he muttered to himself, changing lanes and speeding through the yellowred light. He thought Doggett's parting words had been just a tease--after all, Doggett signaled and shoulder checked and always came to a full and complete stop. Guess Doggett-in-a-car was a different creature than Doggett-on-a-bike.

Krycek's fingers tightened on the wheel as Doggett snaked his way through the stopped traffic and made a right at the next red light. Shit. The car ahead of him in the turning lane didn't appear to want to move. He resisted the urge to lay on the horn, wondering if Doggett would notice he was no longer following and slow down. When he finally turned the corner he spotted the bike parked in front of a shabby looking bar, no Doggett in sight.

He parked behind the bike, shoving down the temptation to knock it with his front bumper, and took in the surroundings before he even moved to get out of the car. It was a neighborhood on the brink of becoming run down, the sidewalks clean but cracked, the squat brown buildings beginning to show their age. Not exactly where he'd picture Doggett's favorite hangout, but then it was becoming painfully obvious that his impression of Doggett wasn't what could be called "accurate." Out of habit he memorized all the cars and pedestrians in sight before stepping into the bar.

Dim, quiet, clean. Doggett was sitting in a booth by the door, waiting. Krycek slid in across the table.

"Nice place," he said, for lack of anything else to say.

"You want the usual, John?" called the bartender.

"Yeah. Make it two. No beers."

Now Doggett was ordering for him?

Doggett caught his suspicious look. "Trust me, it's good."

"Oh, I trust you," he said lightly, letting all the implications of that statement fall where they would. Doggett didn't really appear interested in examining any of them closer.

"You know, I must be crazy for not arresting you the moment I found out where you lived."

"No point. I'd just escape," he shrugged.

Doggett gave him a look but remained silent.

"I got away from Mulder every time he captured me," he said, wondering why he felt the need to explain himself. To give his hands something to do, he grabbed one of the glasses of water and took a sip.

"Your confidence in your abilities to escape makes me wonder how you kept getting caught in the first place."

"Everything has a purpose."

"You probably just liked the handcuffs," Doggett said as Krycek took another sip of water. He choked.

A moment later he was looking up at Doggett's grin through watery eyes. The food arrived, preventing him from making any sort of comeback.

"Thanks Harry," John said and immediately dug in.

Alex stared down at his plate, keeping his expression neutral. It looked good, smelled even better. But it was a pork chop, which required the use of a knife and fork. For about a millisecond he was tempted to just pick it up and gnaw on it.

Fuck.

Very carefully and deliberately he wedged the steak knife between the fingers of his prosthesis and began the time-consuming process of cutting up the meat. At one point the knife slipped and clattered onto his plate. Doggett looked up and Krycek gave him a glare that dared him to say something. They had a brief staring contest before Doggett started back in on his meal.

Again, Krycek found the silence weighing down on him. "How's work?"

Doggett paused with a forkful of salad halfway to his mouth and gave him an incredulous look. "How's work? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just curious."

"Uh huh."

"How's Mulder?"

"With the history the two of you have, I'm surprised you care."

"Hey, I'm not a complete asshole. I have saved his ass a few times, even if nobody sees it."

Doggett let that sink in for a moment. "He shows up in the office, pokes around for awhile until Skinner finds him and kicks him out."

Sounded like Mulder. "How about Scully?"

Doggett's expression hardened immediately. "She's fine," he bit out.

"I bet. Now that Mulder's back."

There was a vein, Krycek noticed, in Doggett's neck that pulsed when he was extremely pissed off. Interesting how the only thing that had really been able to get Doggett's hackles up was mentioning Scully and her reunion with Mulder. To his credit, his voice was even and calm when he spoke.

"You can either get to the point now, or you can stop talking."

He was pretty sure he'd made his point, even if Doggett wasn't willing to admit it. "Just curious," he insisted. No evil plots. No nefarious schemes. Honest.

Doggett seemed content to let the rest of the meal pass in silence, so Krycek concentrated on his meal, which was really very good, until his thoughts began to drift back to Doggett, and the current establishment.

Did he have a friend who came here, or an informant? It hardly seemed like the kind of place to be recommended in the entertainment section of the newspaper.

"You know, staring is considered rude in some cultures."

Krycek ignored the barb. "I was just wondering how you fit into this place. Even with the bike and the leather it seems a little beneath the FBI."

"I've been coming here a long time. Before the bureau."

"I hardly think this place is worth driving all way from New York."

Doggett's expression showed more resigned irritation than surprise.

"Hey, know thine enemy."

"Is that what we are? Enemies?"

Krycek popped a cherry tomato in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before answering. "Do you usually go on dates with your enemies?"

"You think this is a date? You have extremely low standards, Krycek."

He chuckled. "Can't afford to be snobby when you're on the run."

"Guess not," Doggett grinned. It slowly faded. "The problem isn't whether or not you're my enemy. The problem is that if you're not my enemy you're my ally."

"And you don't trust me that much."

"Can you blame me?"

"No. I'd be disappointed if you gave in that easily. Though you really shouldn't think of it in such black and white terms."

"Would you prefer grey and green?"

"It's a start." There was a short silence as they picked at their food until Doggett finally pushed his plate away.

"Look, I better get going. I've got a meeting first thing." He gathered up his jacket and helmet and stood. "Don't worry about the bill. Harry knows to put it on my tab."

"You have a tab?"

"Told you, I've been coming here a long time. Since . . . since my son was kidnapped," he said, surprising Krycek with his candor. Doggett didn't wait for a response or a reaction--he headed immediately to the door.

"John," Krycek said, deliberately using his first name to get his attention. "Anyone fighting against the colonists, against the Consortium--I would never consider that person an enemy. No matter what."

Doggett stared a moment, face unreadable as he nodded once and then walked out the door.

 

They were already at it. Not even seven a.m. and Mulder was already hovering over Scully, talking quietly.

They shut up as soon as he entered the room.

"Don't let me interrupt," he said casually, dropping his briefcase on his desk.

"Actually, Agent Doggett," Mulder said, straightening, "if you could give Scully and me a few minutes."

Doggett didn't even look up.

"If you got private business with Agent Scully, then I suggest you do it on your own time."

"Excuse me?" Mulder was pissed, no doubt about it.

After they last few days, Doggett was done with mind games and ignoring the fact Scully discussed every case with Mulder.

He leaned his hip on his desk and crossed his arms.

"You two want to pretend you're still partners, fine, but do it outside this office."

"Agent Doggett!" Scully was shocked.

John ignored her.

"You screwed up, Mulder. You've got no one else to blame but yourself. Don't pull Scully down with you."

"You son of a bitch!" Mulder snarled.

"Mulder, no!"

Unlike their first meeting, John was ready for Mulder's attack. A twist of his wrist and Mulder was on his knees, thumb twisted at a painful angle.

"You think I don't know you're Kersh's plant?" Mulder gasped out.

Doggett sighed and released him, taking a step back.

"Think what you want, Mulder, but the next time I see you in this office, I'll kick your ass out myself."

Mulder gave Doggett a glare before turning to Scully.

"I'll talk to you later."

"I'll walk out with you, Mulder."

John waited until he heard the elevator close before he dropped into his chair. He considered a couple aspirin to stave off the headache he knew was coming when the phone rang.

"Doggett."

"Johnny, how are you and the lovely Agent Scully this morning?"

"Actually, we were just discussing how well you kiss."

Alex chuckled.

"All alone are you? I thought you had an early meeting."

"I am and I do. Unfortunately, I had to kick Mulder out of the office before I could get any work done."

"Let me guess: Scully went along to make sure he didn't get lost."

"Yeah."

Alex sighed.

"Look, John, I called to ask if you were free this weekend."

"Not unless Kersh hands us something between now and then. What do you have in mind?"

Alex was a little stunned. No twenty questions?

"When was the last time you took a road trip on your motorcycle?"

There was a brief pause. "What are we talking here?"

"Good day's ride from DC. Should get there just after sunset if we leave bright and early Saturday morning."

"We? Get where?"

He was about to give his customary vague and shadowy answer when Doggett interrupted him with a "Hold on a second."

The first thing he noticed was that Doggett didn't bother covering the mouthpiece to muffle the conversation he was having. Krycek could even hear most of what Scully was saying.

"Agent Scully, could I have a word with you when I get off the phone?"

"I have to leave for an appointment right away."

"I'll only be a minute."

"I'm going to be late as it is."

"I can call back," Krycek offered, and was ignored.

"Dana, please."

Krycek felt his fingers tighten around the receiver. Doggett had that fucking pleading tone in his voice that would have melted any woman.

"I'll be back in an hour, Agent Doggett."

Any woman, it seemed, but Dana Scully.

"Shot down, hey?" he said after a moment.

"Shove it Krycek," Doggett growled. "Now what the hell do you want?"

He felt guilty for about half a second. "I'm taking you on a field trip. All this talking doesn't really seem to be getting us anywhere."

"That happens when one of the people doing the talking is full of bullshit."

"I'm offended. Are you implying that I'm not telling the truth?"

"You said it, not me."

"I always tell the truth, John. Not my fault if you don't like what I have to say. Mulder--" He cut himself off, but not quickly enough. Damnit, why was he always bringing Mulder up?

"Go on. Everyday that passes I'm becoming more and more informed about how Mulder knew everything and had it all together and I'm just floundering."

Krycek couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. He'd heard a lot of descriptions of Mulder over the years, a lot of them unflattering, but none as inaccurate as what Doggett had just said.

"Are you done barking in my ear? I have work to do you know."

"Sorry," he said, lying completely. "Are you coming, or what?"

"Well, based on your vague and completely unhelpful description of this trip, I'd have to say no."

"You won't want to miss this."

"Convince me."

"You're kidding, right?" John Doggett said with exasperation. "You want me to drive my bike to New York to look at files."

Alex smiled to himself. He had Doggett hooked. Curiosity was getting the better of caution.

"Come on, Johnny, if nothing else it'll be an interesting ride. Have I disappointed you yet?"

John sighed. It wasn't just the lure of what Alex said would be waiting at the end of the trip. It seemed like a lifetime since he had taken a road trip that hadn't involved FBI business in a car, much less on his bike. After the Scully and Mulder show this morning, he was more than willing to climb out of the Hoover's basement and get some fresh air.

"All right, I'll go--for the ride. How are you getting there, by the way?"

John did not like the tone of the laugh at the other end of the line. "You don't want to share? No problem. Talk to you soon, John."

Click.

John huffed out a sigh and hung up the phone shaking his head. "Never boring, are you, Alex?"

~~~~

John heard the Harley before he saw it. Stepping into the harsh illumination of the parking lot security lights, he watched as the bike's headlight turned to focus on him before it went out.

"What the--"

The bike came to a stop at the outer edge of the light. Alex didn't even bother taking off the helmet, he merely lifted the face guard and nodded.

"You ready?"

John wanted to asked questions he was sure Alex didn't want to answer. His expression must have given him away. Alex shrugged his left shoulder.

"We'll just have to stop a few extra times. The bike's custom." Flipping down the shield, he revved the engine and turned the lights back on.

~~~~

John let Alex set the pace, but rode next to him.

For the first hour tried to watch Alex, but in a helmet, it was almost impossible without being obvious. He also wondered why he hadn't just told Alex leave his bike. Not that he would have. It seemed to be a point of honor for him to live as normally as possible. So much so, that John never gave thought to Alex riding the bike with the prosthesis.

Now it was all he could think about and felt guilty as hell. The sun was fully up. There was no sign of strain in the broad shoulders. John finally gave up watching. The last thing he needed was to run himself off the road.

~~~

They stopped for breakfast a few hours later. John was glad to take off the helmet and stretch. He started at a giggle.

"Nice . . .bikes," One of the two women said with a wink and a long look. They were in their car and gone before he heard Alex's laughter.

"I think she liked you, Doggett."

He blushed and turned his back on Alex to hide it.

"Your ears are turning red," Alex smirked.

John sent him an evil glare and stalked into the restaurant.

He heard Alex come up behind him at the door.

"You could have gotten her phone number." Alex said softly behind him.

John snorted.

"What?" he asked, staring at Doggett's profile. "You told me you liked girls, Johnny."

"Shut. Up."

Alex turned to face the hostess as she approached, but still wore a tiny smile.

"Sorry," Alex said quietly when they were seated at the table.

John looked up. Alex still wore a smile, but it was a wry one.

"You still trying to get me to hit you, Krycek?"

"No," Alex said, "not that."

"Then what?"

Alex shook his head. "Maybe after breakfast."

John sighed, fiddled with the menu.

"I owe you an apology," he finally said.

Alex sat back, surprised.

"For?"

"When I talked to you the other day. I didn't even think about your arm."

Alex closed his eyes.

"Thanks, John," he said quietly. "Not for the apology, but for not making a big deal about me riding the bike. Although I could tell you wanted to."

"How long have you been riding?"

"Dirt bikes when I was a kid. You?"

"After I got out of the service. After all I saw in Lebanon, the bike didn't seem much of a risk."

"Stress release," Alex said.

"Yeah."

"I know. I almost went crazy when I couldn't ride because of my arm. It's the only thing that kept me in physical therapy. Knowing eventually that I'd get back on the bike again. He stared out the window a moment, then the smile was back. "So how come a US Marine blushes when a woman flirts with him?"

"It had nothing to do with her flirting. I've seen less frightening things in combat than the look she gave me."

"You mean the 'I want to handcuff you to my bed and have my way with you?'" Alex said laughing.

"Yeah, that would be the one." John agreed.

"What's wrong, John? You got something against handcuffs?"

Doggett snatched up the check and rose. "Only if I'm wearing them." With that, he strolled away leaving Alex with a bemused expression.

"We aren't going to fight over the tab, are we?" Alex said, when he caught up to John.

"You can get lunch. We'll split dinner. Any other questions?"

"None that should be asked in public."

The cashier tried to smother her laughter and Alex smiled at her efforts and gave her a quick wink.

"You gentlemen have a nice day." She said handing over John's change.

"It must be you," John said as he slipped on his helmet "I've never had this problem before."

Alex stared at him in amazement. "You call women flirting with you a problem? Are you sure there isn't something you want to tell me, Johnny?"

"Never mind," John said.

"Oh, I understand. You've got a madonna/whore syndrome."

"Excuse me?"

"You relegate women to one of two places. A 'nice' girl–"

"I'm familiar with the term, Krycek. Leave the psychology to Mulder. I'm just an old-fashioned southern boy."

"Uh huh. Been awhile since the last time you got laid, Johnny?"

"We need to get on the road."

"Okay, I'm sure those files are more interesting than your sex life anyway." With a sweet smile, he flipped his visor down and started up his bike.

~~~~~

It was almost dark when Krycek waved him off the road.

"We walk from here," Alex said, combing his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "I'll need your help to push the bike in."   
John nodded. It wasn't terribly over grown and he managed hide both bikes without going too far in.

Alex tossed him a back pack. "You bring your service pistol with you? Your badge?"

"My badge. Not my weapon."

"Leave your badge with your bike. Take this," he said, handing over a pistol and two clips of ammunition.

"You expecting a small army?" John quipped.

"A small army is the least of my worries. It's what the bullets won't stop," he said securing his own weapon at his waist, "that we should worry about." He started to trudge into the trees.

"Like what?" John called after him.

"Hopefully you won't have to find out."

"Krycek, wait a damn minute," he grasped Alex's left arm out of reflex.

Alex gasped as if burned.

John instantly released him, watching with concern as he cradled his arm against his body.

"I'm fine," he choked out, "let's go."

"We're not going anywhere except to a hotel."

"Doggett, we don't have time to argue about this. We've got a limited window of opportunity here."

"No. Forget it."

"John–" Alex growled.

"It's not worth it. Don't be stupid, Krycek. You're no good to me in pain. Not if it's going to get dangerous."

"Aw fuck, Doggett." Still cradling his arm, Alex carefully lowered himself to the forest floor and let his backpack drop from his right shoulder. "First aid kit's in there. Pain killers."

"I'm not putting you behind me on a bike drugged up."

"You mean compared to my condition now?"

"You seemed well enough to hike through the woods five minutes ago."

"Bastard," he breathed, too worn to do anything else.

"Yeah, well if you hadn't been so stubborn about giving that arm a rest, we wouldn't even be having this conversation would we? Let's get your jacket off."

Alex lifted his head and did his best to look menacing. "No way."

John let out an aggravated sigh. "I don't have time for the macho shit, Krycek. Longer you fight me; the longer you wait for the pain killers."

"Fine!" he said through gritted teeth. "Go get my saddlebags. They go with me. There's a camo tarp in there to cover to bike."

Doggett secured the tarp around the bike as he listened to Alex curse his way through at least two languages before he moved to secure the saddlebags.

He didn't say a word as he went back to Krycek and helped him finish undressing in quick efficient moves, removing the prosthesis as if it were another piece of clothing and then redressed him. Alex watched him stow the arm in his saddlebags and then turn to him, hands on hips, head tilted in a silent question.

Alex scrambled to his feet and waited for John to mount the bike before he got on behind him, sliding his good arm around Dogget's waist.

****

They made it to a hotel in one piece. Alex's smile quirked at one corner at the strange sight he must have made; a one armed man astride a motorcycle. John came back before he could dwell too much on that or his aching shoulder.

He blinked as he followed John into the room. It had a hot tub. In the bedroom.

John dropped the saddlebags at the foot of the bed and stripped off his leather jacket, tossing it on a chair.

Alex started when John carefully slid his leather jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. He ignored Alex's eyes on him as the shirt was unbuttoned and removed with the same care.

"Go sit on the bed."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Boots?"

He sat and extended a leg.

"Zipper's on the inseam."

John looked confused for a moment, staring at the laces until Alex turned his foot.

"Laces are all for show," he said

He stood and let John look at his back.

Alex heard him curse under his breath.

"It can't be that bad; it's not bleeding," he said.

John grunted as he turned Alex back.

Alex said not a word as John unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

He waited until he pulled his feet free of the legs.

"While you're down there, Johnny," he teased half-heartedly.

John answered by pulling on the bottom of his boxers until they lay pooled around his ankles.

"Sorry," John said, eyes turned upward, even as his breath ghosted over Alex's groin, "You'll have to take care of that yourself."

Alex forgot to breathe. He knew his mouth was hanging open as John rose from his knees and couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

"Now get in the tub while I go dig out the first aid kit."

He sunk gratefully into the water trying not to lean on his shoulder as he relaxed.

"Here."

Alex shook his head at the ibuprofen. "There's pain killers in there."

"Which isn't going to do a damn thing for your shoulder."

Alex sighed and took the pills and then the glass from John.

"Pain in my ass," Alex said snidely.

"Ungrateful son of a bitch," John retorted, tossing a towel on the carpet next to the hot tub.

Alex closed his eyes and tried to drift.

***

"Krycek."

His eyes snapped open. John's hand was gripping his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"You almost went face first into the tub. Come on. I need to put some antibiotic on those raw spots anyway."

John removed his hand, but didn't move away. Alex slowly rose to his feet and stepped out of the tub. A towel went around his shoulders. Alex shivered as the cool air touched his wet skin. Then shivered again as John dragged the towel over his skin. He stood there as long as he could before he shrugged John off and crawled under the covers. John flipped them down to his waist.

"Just let me sleep, John."

He was ignored. Strong hands worked the tense muscles of his right shoulder first, kneading out the knots he found along the way. Alex resisted for thirty seconds before muffling his groans in the pillow. Alex barely felt the cream go on his abraded skin or John pulling the covers up over his shoulders.

***   
Alex opened one eye and squinted at the clock. 3:53. With a sigh, he peeled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. His throat was dry and his bladder was full.

He drank two glasses of water, emptied his bladder and wrapped himself in one of the hotel's robes. The ibuprofen was sitting prominently on the sink, two tablets laid out beside the bottle. Alex smiled and shook his head. He should be annoyed that he was being treated like an invalid, but secretly he was glad he didn't have to struggle with the cap. Another glass of water washed the medication down. Slipping out of the robe, he climbed back into bed and almost immediately fell back to sleep.

***

The smell of coffee lured him awake. He groaned, rolling onto his back, wincing.

John was at the window staring sightlessly at the horizon. When Alex rose from the bed, he blinked, eyes refocusing.

"Morning," he said, his whiskey voice roughened by the early hour.

Alex raised a hand and went straight for the coffee pot. He sighed as the caffeine hit him. The fog of sleep lifted and he leaned against the desk.

"Better?" John smirked.

"Yeah. Let's get loaded up and get out of here."

John shook his head slowly.

"Look, Doggett–" A knock at the door interrupted him.

John set his coffee cup aside and opened the door the door to a woman who couldn't have been any taller than Scully.

"Hi, I'm Kate from the spa. You requested a massage?"

"Come in. I'm John. This is Alex. Would you like some coffee?"

She shook her head, unfolding the massage table and covering it with clean linens.

"So," she said, flexing her fingers, "who's first?"

John lifted his coffee cup to Alex.

"Um, I don't think so," Alex glared at John. Now he was pushing it too far.

"Alex? Please forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I have worked on amputees before."

"Yeah, well, mine's not pretty."

"They never are," Kate said matter-of-factly. "So I'll go over here and talk to John. You can take off the robe and climb under the sheet and lay face down. Have you ever had a massage before, Alex?"

"When I was in physical therapy."

"Then you know what to expect." She turned her gaze to John. "You didn't tell him I was coming."

"Nope," John smiled.

"Stubborn, is he?"

"Unbelievably."

"If you two are done talking about me, I'm ready. And you don't have much room to talk, Doggett."

"Well," Kate said, uncovering Alex to the waist, "my next appointment isn't until this afternoon."

They both smiled at John.

~~~TBC~~~


End file.
